Page 1 of Try Me

Prologue

Sunset Beach,Oahu

Summer 1966

Declan

The fire was hot enough to burn Declan’s skin, but he didn’t move.

He took another swig from the bottle of whiskey and savored the sting of the alcohol going down his throat. The pain felt good. Declan wanted to hurt. It made him remember he was alive, even though he didn’t deserve to be.

Life was good for him. He was rich, talented, handsome, and he was one of the best surfers in Hawaii, which was pretty much the world, because everyone knew Hawaii produced the best surfers. Six months ago, Declan had signed with the best-known agent known to sports. Soon, he would be flying all over the world competing in contests, and probably winning.

Six months ago, things had been good. Better than good. Declan had been flying high. Drinking a little too much maybe, but it was all under control. He’d had his best friends, Eddie and Keoni, who were better than brothers. He’d had a shot at Linda Cooke for the first time, and he’d been on his way to stardom.

Then the accident had happened. Eddie had died. Everything had changed.

Noises from the party floated down the beach, but Declan barely heard them. He was reliving that terrible day when Eddie had disappeared beneath the waves. Declan had been right there, on the very same wave, and he’d been so self-absorbed, so stuck his own head thinking about his upcoming trip to South Africa, and what he was going to do about Linda that he hadn’t seen Eddie go under the waves. He’d only seen him come up — blue and lifeless.

“‘Ey? You awrite?”

Declan looked up from the bottle of whiskey he’d been drowning in and saw Keoni towering over him. Keoni had been there the day of Eddie’s death, but he hadn’t saved Eddie either. Declan had no words for Keoni. Ignoring the best friend he’d ever had; Declan tipped the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply. He wished he hadn’t come tonight. It was supposed to be a celebration in honor of Eddie, so Declan had dragged himself off the barstool he’d been permanently glued to and driven to Sunset Beach.

If he’d known everyone would insist on having such a good time, he would have stayed put.

“Why’s everybody so damn happy?’ he growled.

Keoni laughed. The sound was just as hollow as a wave at Pipeline Beach, and it took him back to a time when laughter was a possibility. Now, it seemed like he would never laugh again.

“Shut up!” Declan yelled toward the crowd of people partying down the beach.

His protest was caught in the wind and carried out to sea. The outburst taxed him, and he slumped over. Declan lifted his head to pour whiskey down his throat, but before the sweet liquid could touch his lips, Keoni slapped away the bottle.

“Cool out, bruddah,” Keoni said. “You’re wasted.”

Declan scrambled across the beach to where the bottle lay on its side. The precious contents leaked onto the sand before he could grab the bottle.

“Whaddyah do that for?” Declan asked, looking up at his best friend.

Shadows danced over Keoni’s face, highlighting the lines etched by grief. “I’m not lookin’ to lose another friend,” he said.

Declan threw the empty bottle into the fire. He was tired of Keoni. Tired of everything. He pushed to his feet, wobbling a little as he stood. “I’m gonna split,” he said.

Keoni stood in his path, his big shoulders blocking where Declan wanted to go. “Nah,” Keoni said. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“Since when was you my dad?” The words sounded fine in Declan’s head, but they came out garbled as if he had a mouthful of pebbles.

“Sit down.” Keoni pointed.

Declan tried to shove Keoni out of his way, but the big oaf didn’t move. Keoni was six-three and all muscle. Keoni didn’t move unless he wanted to. Declan glared up at him.

“Get outta my way.” Declan cocked his fist, but they both knew he wouldn’t raise it.

“You can’t drive like this. Lemme’ drive you.”

“You want to play the hero?” Declan asked. “You shoulda saved somebody who mattered.”

Keoni winced as though Declan had socked him in the belly. The look on his face was worse than if Declan had punched him. Declan recognized that look. Guilt. Shame. Anger. All rolled into one big fist that knocked your lights out. Keoni had watched Eddie die, but he hadn’t been the one kissing his girl the night before. No, that would be him, Declan Bishop, king of assholes.

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